Sweet Taciturnity
by Momoiro Usagi
Summary: Heidrich needs to please his friend, but isn't quite sure what he can do to bring back his smile. EdxHeidrich


Heidrich moved slowly, carefully, taking a deep breath as he felt the other boy's hands splaying across his hips. Rising up gently, he let his body adjust to the feeling, pausing only for a moment to offer the other boy a sweaty grin. Under him, the bed creaked, groaning and calling out. Loud enough to rouse the landlady from her sleep, he realized regretfully, trying to slow his movements in spite of his friend's persistent rocking.

Even in a moment of heated desire, he remembered all too well the value of their secret. Even if it meant having to face the pouty face of a very indignant Edward in the morning, he wouldn't let them be found out. Not like this. Not caught up in the moment, too blinded by lust to take notice of the surrounding world.

"Shh, shh," slouching forward, he brought a single finger to Ed's lips, gasping in surprise as they parted underneath his touch. Spreading like petals of a rosebud, the other boy's warmth enveloped him, teased him. "Ed, Edward, I," The words had seemed so much easier in his head, spurred on by caution and some sort of moral justice. But now, they stuck on his tongue, tasting suspiciously like sandpaper. "I shouldn't, I mean, _we_ shouldn't be doing this."

Ed's eyes widened darkly, and Heidrich suddenly took a pressing interest in the way the wall behind the bed met the floor, watching as it faded down below the musty carpet. Outside, the lamplights pulsed and then went out, ending in a strip of light slashing across Ed's chest. It was as if the world were shutting down, coming undone. "I'm sorry," he added quickly, surprised as the other boy shoved him off. "I only thought…"

"It doesn't matter."

With a shaky breath, Heidrich tried to ignore the wet, slipping sounds his friend made as he buried his head in the pillow, trying his best to finish what they had started.

In the beginning, Heidrich had truly believed he was doing the right thing. Nothing felt better than a kiss stolen over a particularly challenging batch of equations or mismatched hands wrapping around him, shielding against the onslaught of a harsh German storm. Back then, it had been easy for him to smile and laugh, clutching his friend as if he'd never let go.

But in the beginning, there were so many things he didn't understand.

"You really miss him?" He made the mistake of asking one chilly November morning, grimacing as the color fell from Ed's already pallid cheeks. Fidgeting nervously, he rolled a cracked coffee cup between his fingers, finding his food precipitously hard to swallow. "I, I mean, I'm sure you do." He gnawed at his tongue, avoiding Ed's hand as it sneaked across the table to caress his arm. "Of course you do."

There had been so many other questions he wanted to ask: questions that had taken pause in the base of his spine, eating away at him in long, nauseous waves of pain. But his mouth couldn't form the words, instead letting his friend's tongue ravage him, plummeting inside like a wild animal moving in for the kill, ripping the breath from his heaving chest.

Ed took him right there that day, shoving plates of half-finished pancakes aside as he threw Heidrich down onto the table, pressing his erection against the crease of the other boy's pants. And, grinding backwards into gyrating hips, Heidrich couldn't find the breath to protest the feelings washing over him: the sharp, hedonistic drive to forget all coherent thoughts and melt into the simple pleasures of existence. Just like those crazy psychology books he's so fond of, the larger boy mused, pressing his face down onto the cool surface as Ed mounted him, content with a single moment of his attention.

Ed never came to breakfast again, instead choosing to sneak his coffee back into his dingy cell of a room, letting mugs accumulate beside empty beer bottles and shot glasses. Every empty cup marked his misery, and, even though Heidrich hurried in to return them to their places in the cupboard, there was something about them that made his chest ache. He could clean up the mess, but he could certainly never make them whole again.

Their exchanges became less and less; silence took the place of all the promises they should've spoken, but knew they couldn't keep. The only understanding that passed between them was offered in silence: an unwritten contract promising quick tumbles in bed and sidelong glances as they walked together down the street.

Ed's heart was already too full to offer his friend any more than he already had.

But now, Heidrich realized with a whimper, grasping his own erection between sweaty palms as his hips started to shake, their contract had been breeched. Words that should've been spoken long ago swelled in the back of his throat, threatening to spill over in a shower of saline and screams, and all he could do was smash his face down into the pillow, trying not to cry at the memory of angry eyes boring down into his face.

He wanted Ed to like him. That much was obvious in the way his chest constricted every time the other boy turned away and left, muttering about work that needed to be done or ground that needed to be covered by his anxious feet. But as far as the extent of his feelings, he wasn't sure, choosing the role of the desperate fool time and time again, even though his mind urged against it.

Pressing his back down into the mattress and staring out towards the place where the wall met the floor, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all a waste. What was it about Ed that made him want to cast aside everything and accept the constant rejection like a dog slumping down to be whipped by his master?

A long time ago, there had been beauty in the other boy's smile. There had been moments when the whole world seemed to stop between glowing orbs of golden ambition. There had been gentility behind each touch, meaning behind each thrust as they rolled their hips together, savoring the intimacy of togetherness like dessert after a particularly delicious meal. Love had once come first, sex trailing behind like an added incentive, but somewhere down the line those roles had been swapped, and now Heidrich wasn't quite sure if he could ever realign the broken pieces.

"Are you OK, Ed?" He dared a gentle whisper, plunging down into regrets as Ed jerked away from his uneasy touch. "Look, I, I'm sorry."

He shouldn't have been sorry, he told himself quickly, because he had been in the right, trying to protect their secret with a rationality Ed couldn't quite grasp. But still, he was sorry, a clammy chill crawling up his back at the very thought of having Ed mad at him. His straining erection was soon forgotten underneath the elastic of his pants, his hand coming instead to wrap around his friend's slender waist. "I'm really sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." Words that should've been spoken in comfort sounded angry and confused, reverberating unpleasantly in the silence. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But you're obviously upset with me…"

"It's nothing."

And it _was_ nothing, because under the shadows of a chilly German night, Heidrich was nothing. He barely felt the warmth of the body lying beside him under tousled sheets; when he closed his eyes, the room around him felt surprisingly empty. His chest had become a bottomless pit: a hole Ed had dug with his angry eyes and snippets of unanswered retorts.

Heidrich had once dreamed of romance. Sitting on the sterile hospital bed as the doctor read him a report he had never wanted to receive, he had longed for nothing more than to dissolve into the arms of another person, cradled in the clutches a strong embrace.

He had once asked Ed why it couldn't be that way, begging for stolen kisses over particularly difficult equations and strong arms to soothe away the chill of a German storm, but now he knew better than to question his friend. There were words he could never utter, promises of return for which he could never pray, knowing they had never been there in the first place.

One shouldn't ask for that which he never had to begin with. Even if he _had_ felt some sort of jealous entitlement to it from the start.

In the morning, Heidrich would rise early and set out breakfast for two, knowing from the start his efforts would be wasted. He would venture out into the streets, watching as couples laughed together, reminded with a pang of regret that there were so many experiences he would never have the chance to know. And when he returned from a long day of work, he would sneak into Ed's room, gathering up a handful of mugs and glasses and washing out crusty stains that had accumulated in their empty depths.

He couldn't clean up the mess his own life had become, but at least he could still do that much. And when Ed thrust into him, digging his nails into the small of his back, he could scream in response, pretending to moan with a passion he had long ago ceased to feel.

Asking for anything more than that would just be foolish.

* * *

"Ed, I," with a shaky breath, Heidrich let his hand caress the other boy's arm, lingering for only a moment before jerking away in fear. "I, I want to help you bring him back."

Saying nothing in response, the other boy looked away, slinging his coat over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. The silence that set in between them was cold and clammy, crawling up Heidrich's back from the very base of his spine to the crown of his head, reverberating with the dreaded beat of his erratic heart. Promises that couldn't be kept were all he had, and yet even in those promises, he found only emptiness.

When Edward returned from work that night, he threw his friend down onto the table, his body laced with the intoxicating scent of beer and motor oil. As he closed in, Heidrich barely found the strength to lift his arms in response, looking away as he sensed tears in his friend's ambitious golden eyes. The dam of taciturnity burst with a wet groan, spilling out in a stream of cries and meaningless banter as Ed plunged down into his body. And all Heidrich could do was smile, once again stopping to savor the warmth of their togetherness.

Even if it were all done in pretense, this time Heidrich knew better than to refuse.


End file.
